Early in the evening, a Columbi Excelsior rolls to the front of the PBC office. A man, probably in his 60s, gets off from the back seat and starts making his way to the entrance of the building taking support of his cane with each step. Pushing the glass doors open, the man steps into an empty hallway. It was dead silent, apart from the single fan left humming on the reception desk. He turned it off and made his way to the broadcasting room. Laying his cane by the chair, he sits down and tunes the transmitter. The man picks up the microphone and begins broadcasting...

"This is CEO Pate Postimies of the PBC for anyone listening... Panau Broadcasting Company is no more. This is our final transmission."

He opens his mouth but there isn't anything left to say. Instead, he places the microphone back on the table and flicks the transmitter off. The man drops his hat on and picks up his cane and makes his way back to the exit. Since Faulkner walked out, the whole station had been laid off, now dismissed. He was a dying man. Everything of his was being shut down, business by business. Before departing, he left a sign on the window. It read "for sale"...

"Is there anywhere else you would like to visit, sir?" His driver asks as he is reaching for the backseat door.

"Melambak. I have some unsettled affairs that need to be taken care of." The man replies.

With a gentle nod, they both climb aboard and dust off leaving another ghost of the past behind...

~ It used to be about trying to create something. Now it's about trying to shoot someone.